Sometimes, Kids Just SUCK!!!

A darling little specimen (who, for the sake of confidentiality will be "Z" for all intents and purposes of this blog) came to visit me after a bonk to the face sometime the night previous.

Z was a precocious little thing. She proudly announced to anyone who would listen, "I'm waiting for Dr. Shana!"

Soon after she became aware of her eager little patient, Dr. Shana went back to the residents' room to collect a few things, where several of her colleagues stared at her sympathetically and said in a very ominous manner, "I am sooooo sorry." Now wide eyed with fear, Dr. Shana looked inquisitively at her colleagues who answered her growing concern with, "Use the quiet room." ...and left it at that.

Back in the clinic, Z eagerly hopped up into the chair, asking ALL KINDS of questions. She seemed quite unconcerned that she had suffered any kind of trauma, and there was very little in the way of outward signs of such a struggle. But Mom was insistent that she had injured her tooth, and was terribly concerned that the tooth underneath was going to be infected if her daughter was not promptly seen to assess the injury sustained by mysterious forces.

All the niceties out of the way, and a somewhat fuzzy patient history was collected (nobody would say exactly how the tooth suffered its catastrophic injury, and Z was having difficulty keeping straight exactly where in her mouth it actually hurt... sometimes up... sometimes down... sometimes left... sometimes right...).

Time to examine Z.

The chair reclines gradually. Z makes a joke about Dr. Shana's funny gloves. The overhead chair light goes on....

And then the demonic possession begins...

Suddenly, the energetic and inquisitive Z has begun screaming... Not like an everyday frightened child kind of cry. This sound could only be described as an emission from the depths of Hell: A high-pitched, hatred-filled, ear-piercing Nazgul-esque scream that rocked the clinic walls. Mom (so helpful of her), forcefully shoves Z back into the chair by the shoulders and pins her down, at which point the darling child rips at her mom's face like the dude at the end of "Raiders of the Lost Ark." She has also managed to pull out chunks of her own hair as well as her mom's. All the while, she continues the devilish blood curdling shrieks.

Dr. Shana is concerned.

She steps away from the mother and daughter and says, "I am not going to be able to examine Z unless she can calm down and sit still." Mom assures Dr. Shana that her daughter is in excruciating pain, and this MUST be why she's acting like this, but Mom will let Z sit on her lap, and then surely Dr. Shana can get a good look and some x-rays in this miraculous position.

This time Z gets a chunk of Dr. Shana's hair too.

"Don't TOUCH my child!!!" Mom reacts, in a most protective manner.

Happy to oblige, Dr. Shana has already retracted the solitary finger she was able to glance across Z's upper lip for a brief second, still unable to assess Z's condition. Dr. Shana is pretty sure the x-rays would prove futile to obtain as well. Mom begins to think that maybe this emergency exam isn't going to work. But before she takes Z home, she decides to make one final plea:

"While we're here, Dr. Shana. Could you do Z's cleaning today too?"

"No, Mom. We can't. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out."